


The Price of Financial Security

by AlexRoyale



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-30
Updated: 2013-03-30
Packaged: 2017-12-06 22:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexRoyale/pseuds/AlexRoyale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shawn Michaels wonders what the true cost of his deal with JBL will be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Financial Security

 

  
I don't want to answer my phone. I'm so sick of hearing it ring. I want to pick it up more than anything. I don't want to continue feeling like a miserable failure. I'm so sick and tired of being sick and tired. Figure that out. 

The call display is the same number seven times. Hunter's persistent and stubborn, and loyal, and I fucking love him for all of that, but right now, hearing his voice calmly explain that "Shawn, you've lost your fucking mind." would wake me up to that precise fact. It'd be so easy just to ask Hunter for help, but I can't. And it's killing me. If I let him help me, JBL'd be screaming at me that I'd starve and Hunter and I would laugh at him and know he's full of shit. But then I'd be left with the fact that I'd now gone to Hunter for money. He'd all too willingly give it...he gives everything to me without fail, without thought of reward. He does it because he loves me. 

Right now, Hunter's more of a Christian than I am. And I know his views on God. 

The Bible says pride goeth before a fall, and I just can't let my pride go. It destroyed Hunter and I before, and it's - I'M - doing it again. But here I am, watching my cell blink and ring, the numbers a plea for me to pick it up and "just talk to me Shawn". I can hear him hear it ring and how it must crush and frustrate him, and it's all I can think about. 

I think I do it to myself, that it's something that only I have to do and to hell with everyone else. I know better, but I still choose the dumb way. The painful way. I think it only hurts me, but the seven messages and the continued ringing of my phone tell me otherwise. 

_If you're not careful, Shawn, that phone will never ring again._  

Hunter wouldn't do that by choice, but only if I pushed him away. And I am right now. The longer I stay silent, the further from me he gets. 

If I'm not careful, the only person who I'll ever hear from on the end of my phone is JBL. 

I think I want to throw up. 

\------------ 

I feel even worse now, despite the empty stomach, I'm still nauseous. Repeated brushing hasn't removed that bitter taste from my mouth. I think it's from the knowledge I've sold something that I will never get back. My self-worth and all my hard work to support my family. I'm correcting my mistakes, taking this job. I can support my family. But will I ever be able to look at myself again, or at Hunter, knowing what I'm doing to him? I think no. I think that's the other price. My soul, and my bond with Hunter. My wife will understand, though she'll look at me and know better, she won't say anything. She loves and trusts me too much, and that's what really hurts. 

Doing the right thing...am I doing that?. Sometimes the right thing makes you feel wrong. It makes me feel wrong. Makes me feel off, makes me feel not like myself. 

I hate wallowing. I hate this crap. I feel trapped and I know I've done it to myself. I wanna scream. 

My phone rings again. 

This is Hell. This has to be. 

I need to be alone, and the ironic part is, I'm doing a heck of a job ensuring that. 

\----------- 

So here I am, standing in the locker room, talking to Punk. He's a good guy, real enthusiastic. I used to be like that. 

Oh here I go again. Depressed High-Pants Man. Not even that can make me smile now. 

I do my best, but can't match Punk's energy, he's so excited at the thought of facing me that he's not even worried about his qualifying match with Jericho. I want to pass that on to him, that his focus needs to be with the immediate threat of Jericho, but he carries on and my moment is lost once Hunter steps through the door.

Punk stops speaking, and all I hear is Hunter's tired, worn, "Hey Shawn...." 

I'm responsible for that tone. For the fact he hasn't looked like he's slept. Tired as he is, his eyes hold me when I know his arms can't. 

I hate myself so much in this moment right now. 

I'm listening to Hunter rant at me, and I deserve every word despite my half-assed defense of myself. He's got me cornered with wondering why I can't go to him, the guy who put everything on the line for me no matter what it cost him, but I'll be business partners with a man who would sell his mother for a decent stock tip. 

Everything that comes to my mind sounds lame, and it is. All I can blurt out in the face of the man who for a better sense of the term is my soulmate, is "Trust me." 

Hunter stops. His eyes are all wondering and trusting, and it kills me a little more inside. I've played the one card I have.

 

If I ask Hunter to trust me, he will, and by saying that to him, I cut him off from me. It's so sharp and painful I want to sob. He'll do whatever I ask. If I asked him to kill for me, he'd do it gladly.

 

I can't stand hurting him, but I can't keep him close right now. I have to keep everything inside.

 

I told Hunter I have a plan, but I wish I knew what it was


End file.
